


when you need me to care

by regrettably



Category: JJCC (Band)
Genre: M/M, can you believe I wrote a G-rated fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regrettably/pseuds/regrettably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Simba feels like everyone's forgotten him, Sancheong reminds him that there's always somebody who will take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you need me to care

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from somebody very nice on twitter, they wanted a sweet story about Sancheong and Simba, which was much more difficult for me to write than you'd think! I hope this is what you wanted! It makes a bit more sense if you've read my other JJCC fics first, but I think it also works as a standalone! c:

There are lots of things that Simba thinks suck. 

 

Bugs suck (they give him the creepy-crawlies), doing the dishes sucks (especially with Eddy hovering over your shoulder making sure they’re done to his impossible standards), tests suck (his parents always told him that “studying is the key to getting ahead in life” up until his upper years of high school, when they realized that he’s not exactly bright and they started telling him that “it’s better to be kind than to be smart”).

 

But being sick probably sucks the most of all.

 

Simba doesn’t like to be alone when he’s sick.  Or hurt.  Or sad.  But especially sick.

 

Right now he’d love to have Zica beside him, laughing at one of their favourite animes.  Or Eddy talking excitedly over one of the dramas he’s over-invested in.  E.co and his crazy hand gestures and long lectures would be a welcome distraction right now.  He knows Yul wouldn’t want to be alone in the room with him, but he’d appreciate his quiet presence anyways.  He’d even be happy with Prince Mak just hanging out with him, even if Simba’s English is at it’s very worst when he’s ill, but as far as he knows Prince is somewhere in China so that’s not even an option.

 

But nobody wants to be around him. 

 

He may have a bit of a reputation for always being the first person in their house to catch whatever cold is going around, and to then spread it to all the other members.  He can’t help it that Yoonchannie is always catching colds!  The kid is always getting sick, as children do, so he ends up getting sick from him.  And it’s not his fault that he recovers first, he’s always sick first!  It’s his job as the leader to inspire the other members to feel better, right?  But they get so upset at him when he tries to get them to stop spending all of their time in bed, even though he’s just trying to do his job!

 

So he’s stuck in his room, alone.  He’s been cooped up in here all day (his managers made him go to their vocal practice earlier in the day and he coughed on Zica by accident and got himself sent back to their dorm).  He’s got a runny nose and his sinuses are somehow clogged at the same time, his throat is itchy and sore, his whole body aches, and he’s got the cold sweats so he’s had to change his shirt five times today because it keeps getting soaked.  He’s shivering and shaking, he’s wrapped up in four blankets and he still feels cold even though one of their managers told him he has a massive fever, his head hurts and he can’t even focus on whatever movie he’s been trying to watch on his laptop, which is balanced precariously on his knees amidst a sea of dirty kleenex. 

 

Ungrateful.  That’s what they all are.  Ungrateful selfish jerks who won’t spend any time at all with their poor leader when he’s sick.

 

Being the leader sucks too, most of the time.  You spend nearly all of your free time taking care of everybody else and then when you need somebody to take care of you, they’re all like “no way, you’re too sick” and “you have to be kidding, Youngjin, I’m not coming within ten feet of you” and “last time I took care of you my eyes were red for two weeks, asshole”.

 

Whatever, it’s fine.  He’ll just sit here and sweat and he can’t even fall asleep because every time he lies down his nose plugs up and he can’t breathe.  He finished all his cough syrup and he ran out of cold medicine and he needs more but he feels too exhausted to stand and he dropped his phone under the bed and there’s no way he’s getting up to search for it, so that’s gone now and he can’t call anyone for help.  Maybe if he coughs a lung up somebody will finally come to check on him and if not maybe he’ll pass out and finally get some rest and-

 

“Can I come in?”  Someone’s knocking on his door and their voice is muffled so he can’t even tell who it is right now but he doesn’t care, he’s just so happy that somebody’s remembered that he’s there.

 

“Please come in!  Please please please!”  He rasps as loudly as he can, and the door creaks open, and then Sancheong’s poking his head into his room.

 

Sancheong.  He wasn’t really expecting Sancheong.  Not that he’s not a nice guy or anything, just that he generally prefers to spend any free time he can get alone.  But right now he’s here, he’s in his pyjamas and he’s wearing a facemask and he holds up a few shopping bags sporting the familiar logo of the convenience store at the corner of their street as he meanders over to the edge of Simba’s bed.   

 

“Can I sit?”  Sancheong gestures to the bed, to the space beside Simba, and Simba scrambles to prop up some pillows and push a whole mountain of used tissues aside.

 

“Yeah!”  He nods, smiling weakly when Sancheong plops down beside him and starts digging things out of the plastic bags he brought with him.

 

He pulls out a bottle of something thick and purple (hopefully cough syrup), a box of pills, a whole bunch of sodas and juices, a package of lozenges, and he spreads them all out on the mattress silently while Simba watches.  All of the presents excite Simba, but the best part is when he removes a foil container and a pair of chopsticks from a bag, passing them both to Youngjin while pulling his mask down around his chin.

 

“For you.”  He grins a little as he watches Simba’s eyes widen happily as he pulls the lid off some steaming-hot convenience store ramyun.  “I thought you could use some food.”

 

Simba doesn’t even have words for how thankful he is, the noodles are warm and so spicy that his sinuses clear for the first time today and this is so exactly what he needed (Eddy refused to make him soup today, just because the last time he was sick he maybe threw up in the bowl after one sip and Eddy was beyond offended) that he forgets to tell Sancheong how grateful he is.

 

But he realizes Sancheong’s laughing at him and he grins back through a mouthful of noodles. 

 

“Sorry, do you want some?”  He offers up some noodles with his chopsticks, and Sancheong grimaces and shakes his head.

 

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks.  I got my own.”  He pulls out another container from a bag and laughs, grabbing Simba’s laptop from his knees and finding something to watch before making himself comfortable with his own noodles.

 

They eat quietly (well, as quietly as Simba can slurp his noodles), Simba not really paying attention to whatever movie Sancheong chose (he can only concentrate on either eating or watching right now, and eating’s the priority) but really enjoying the comfort of just having somebody else in the room with him right now.

 

Although he kind of wonders if anybody else would have the same effect on him that Sancheong does.

 

He doesn’t often get to spend time alone with the maknae of their group, but he really enjoys the rare moments they do have together.  Sancheong isn’t much of a talker, but Simba’s always actually liked that about him.  Even if they don’t say much to each other, the silence is never awkward, Simba never feels pressed to fill in the gaps with idle conversation like he does with Yul, never has to strain his brain like he does to keep up with E.co and his mile-a-minute mouth.

 

Things are easy with Sancheong.  They’re always comfortable, always good.  He never feels like he needs to impress him or change for him or even do anything differently than he usually does.  He can just be Simba, the usual dumb leader Simba that everyone knows and loves.  Or, even better, right now he can be Youngjin, dumb Youngjin who’s tired and scared and sick and who never knows what he’s doing but that’s okay because he knows Sancheong doesn’t ever judge him for any of that. 

 

But he’s also surprised that Sancheong would choose to spend time with him when he’s nasty sick and has snot dripping down his face (where did his box of tissues go?) and can’t stop coughing and sputtering between mouthfuls of food.

 

“So, who put you up to this?”  Simba asks, digging around blindly with a large palm to find some clean tissues while trying not to choke as he swallows his noodles.

 

Sancheong, being the maknae and all, gets ordered to do all the household jobs that nobody else in their group wants to do, and Simba’s guessing that today he’s the chore that nobody wanted to take care of.  But Sancheong shakes his head and laughs.

 

“Nobody told me to do this.”  He chuckles, drinking down the last of the broth from his noodles.  “I was just… thinking about you, I guess.”

 

“You?  Were thinking about me?”  Simba’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open (Sancheong tactfully says nothing about the noodles that drop out of his mouth) as he points at himself.

 

Sancheong nods, tossing his ramyun container into an empty bag, pulling his facemask up, and lounging back on the pillows beside Simba.  “Yup.”

 

“Awh, Hadon!  Thank you so much!”  He tries to pull Sancheong into a hug to show his appreciation, and Sancheong puts his flexibility to good use and manages to squirm away from Simba’s arms while simultaneously saving his laptop from falling off the bed. 

 

“Uh, no need for the hug…”  Sancheong mumbles, putting Simba’s laptop in a safe place before relaxing again.  “…or to thank me.  I was the leader for a little bit, remember?  I know how people kind of… forget about you… or forget that you might need someone to take care of you too…”

 

“Yeah, they kind of do, don’t they?”  Simba finally finds the box of tissues (he was laying on them) and blows his nose loudly before continuing.  “But you didn’t forget about me, so thanks.”

 

“No problem.”  Sancheong chuckles, opening the bottle of cough syrup from earlier and making sure Simba actually drinks some.   “Anyways, I couldn’t forget about you even if I wanted to.”

 

And Sancheong bumps his knee against Simba’s and Simba’s heart swells (or his lungs finally collapse, he’s not sure) because Sancheong never says this kind of stuff and he gets the feeling that this is probably an important moment between the two of them, and he should likely try to build on this somehow because he wants Sancheong to know that he feels exactly the same way.

 

“Hadon-” Simba starts, but he’s cut off by Sancheong shoving some pills in his wide open mouth.

 

“Swallow those…”  Sancheong hands Simba one of the many drinks he had bought him.  “…and then get some sleep, Youngjin.  You really look like you could use it.” 

 

Sancheong makes like he’s going to stand, like he’s going to leave Simba alone in his room and Simba really doesn’t want that, so he wraps a large palm around Hadon’s arm (not the bare skin, he’s trying his best not to spread germs) and tugs.

 

“Hadon… would you stay here tonight?”  He asks hopefully, trying to look cute, endearing, failing miserably when he goes into a coughing spasm and horks up a bunch of phlegm.  “I really don’t want to be alone…”

 

Sancheong blinks at him for a second, touches his mask, shrugs. 

 

“Sure.”  He gathers up the blankets that have fallen from Simba’s shoulders and tucks them tight around his lanky body, fluffs the pillows behind Simba’s back, makes sure the box of tissues is within Simba’s reach, and then slides under the layer of blankets and settles in beside him.  “Just try not to cough on me too much, okay?”

 

Simba laughs, nods, grunts a little when Sancheong reaches over him to turn off the bedside light.  He lets Sancheong push him around a little, maneuver him so he’s lying on his side and facing away from him, and is gleefully surprised when Sancheong presses their legs together and puts an arm loosely around his waist.  He’s still freezing and Sancheong’s body heat feels amazing and even though his shirt is kind of damp Sancheong’s still willing to hold him and even though he feels like shit he doesn’t think he could be much happier right now.

 

Sancheong’s breathing is just starting to slow behind him when Simba speaks up, voice raspy and sticky and sore.  “You know… if something ever happened to Joonyoung, I’d take care of you.”

 

Sancheong’s arm tenses sharply against his waist, and Simba worries that he might have said the wrong thing once again (he’s pretty used to apologizing to people because his mouth usually works faster than his brain), but before he can say that he’s sorry Sancheong’s relaxed again and there’s pressure against the back of his head and he realizes Sancheong’s pressing a facemask covered kiss to his hair.

 

“Thanks, Youngjin.”  He murmurs.  “I know you would.”

 

Simba doesn’t want to say anything else dumb and his cold medicine’s starting to kick in and he feel pleasantly drowsy now, so he keeps quiet.

 

He wishes he could roll over and kiss Sancheong down the lines of his nose that he likes so much, kiss his cheeks, his heavy eyelids, the dark bags under his eyes, but all that will have to wait until he’s better. 

 

He could just tell Sancheong that he loves him, but he knows that Sancheong already knows that.

 

And if he knows, that’s enough for Simba.

 

So even though he’s still shaking and his throat is still sore, Simba falls asleep with a smile on his very cracked lips, because he knows he’ll never really be alone as long as he has Sancheong.

 

 


End file.
